Lessons
by Mollzy
Summary: Lost after his sister runs away, Eli finds strength and a new passion through music and a new friend.
1. The Begining

_**Hey guys, It's Mollzy! This is just a story I've been working on for a while, it's not from any paticular tv show or book just my own ideas. It's only my second story so feel free to flame, but try not to be too mean! Please review if you want more because I'm not even sure people actually look under the Misc. section! Without further ado, chapter 1**_

"I think Eli just needs a push in the right direction. He's a bright kid but I'm afraid that if we have too many more of these incidents I'm going to have to report it to the board."

I sighed, I could hear them talking through the thick wooden door to the principals office.

"Thank you sir, he's been feeling pretty stressed lately, the situation with his sister has just put him in a bad place." My father's voice was strong and assured while my mothers, rushing to agree, was light and soft. I sighed. My older sister, Izzy was only seventeen, and seemed to be the 'perfect child', or so everyone thought. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who actually knows why she ran away, I wasn't mad, I just wished I could have come. We were very close, I knew that behind her mask of straight A's and pristine, ironed clothes was an artist who wanted to skip college and live her life freely. I hoped she was now. Six months, one week, and four day's later they were still searching. That was when I decided to stop pretending. As the door opened, I looked down, studying the ripping plastic on my ratty, frayed converse. After thanking the principal for the tenth time they ushered me out the door and into the car, my dad slamming the door behind him. I sat and buckled the seat belt lazily, waiting for the lecture that was sure to come. I wasn't disappointed.

"Son, this has got to stop! What happened to you kids! I know-"

"We stopped pretending." I interrupted angrily. The car was dead silent. I almost felt sorry when I saw the look on my mom's face but then I remembered Isabella.

"Honey, what do you mean?" My mom asked in a sad voice.

"I mean it's your fault Izzy left! Expecting better of her when she got 92's on tests, insisting she join Math and Science Clubs even though she was juggling Honor's Society and being student council president, making her apply Ivy League, even though she just wants to paint! You won't pay attention to what we need, just what you want!" I glared at both of them, running my fingers through my black hair.

"Don't talk to your mother that way." Dad said. He was about to start before I interrupted.

"See, you can't even hear us." With that, I opened the door and stormed away, slamming it behind me. We hadn't even left the parking lot. Things had been bad like this for a while. After a moment I began to run. It felt good, like I was finally getting away. I didn't stop until I had reached the art gallery. Izzy used to take me here every Saturday and talk me through all the paintings, going on about all the uses of colors and the symbolism in so and so's theme. I never understood what she said, but it meant something, that she cared to spend time with me. I signed in and walked over to the impressionism wing. I stared at the first painting and the words just rushed back to me.

_"What the hell is that supposed to be?" I laughed when we reached the first picture in this wing._

_"Eli!" Isabella scolded playfully, "Come on. Can't you see the message? That one single bird living in peace amongst the chaos? The bird of course being a symbol…." I stopped listening but just watched her as she talked about her passion, art. She was so fiery and alive, laughing and speaking with such conviction that I knew someone would believe her if she said the sky was purple. _

_"Wait a minute," I said, truly confused, "where on earth do you see a bird?"_

_"It's right there, stupid!" my sister replied._

_"Izzy!" I scolded, mocking her earlier words. _

_"Well it's not my fault my brother doesn't have a deep bone in his body! I swear, are we even related? Besides, I wasn't cursing, unlike someone here." She laughed, a light airy sound._

I smiled a little. We'd worked our way throughout the museum, getting a little farther each week. This was the last picture we'd looked at together, the last wing before we completed the museum. I couldn't bring myself to walk any farther, it didn't feel right without her.

I realized I had been standing there for a little over twenty minutes, so after glancing one last time at the bird painting I exited the building. Walking down the quiet streets I stayed silent the entire trip home, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my black sweatshirt. The walk was all to short and pretty soon I was staring up at our pristine house. The home was made of red bricks and the lawn was neatly cut. The white porch had a sitting area for guests and a clear, spotless vase with perfect blooming flowers. Unable to walk in there and face my parents I swiftly climbed up the sturdy oak near my second story window. Slipping is as quietly as possible, I could hear my mom whistling as she made dinner and my dad getting Willow, the youngest, ready for her bath. It was as if nothing had happened. The only thing missing was the soft nature sounds that Izzy would play unreasonably loud as she worked on her newest project, or, as my parents thought, studied.

I grunted as I landed on the bed, reaching under me to find what I had sat on. It was a piece of paper with a small, 3X4 business card. For a moment I froze, fear filling me as I remembered the note I found on my bed the day Isabella left. Hands shaking, I read the note attached.

Eli,

I talked to the therapist, that was your principals agreement rather then suspending you, I know you hate talking to people like that so the doctor agreed to sign you off if you at least tried his theory that having a hobby, something to look forward to doing, will help you. We signed you up for lessons. Deal with it and count your blessings. You're grounded until you apologize to your mother for this afternoon.

Breathing a sigh of relief, before my annoyance kicked in, I read the card. There was a treble clef on one side and in sloppy cursive it said, Aria North, piano instructor, Wednesdays at 4:36. After briefly wondering about the time, I set the paper on my dresser. There really was no getting out of this one, though it was a heck of a lot better than therapy. It was already Tuesday today, so that meant tomorrow was the day. I quickly changed into my pajamas and quickly walked into my bathroom. I stopped for a minute, looking in the mirror. I could remember every detail of Isabella's face from the light freckles on her nose to the creases on her forehead when she painted. We almost looked like twins. My jet black hair was cut into a short, swooping style, while her same black hair naturally fell into beautiful curls. She looked older with a rounder more heart shaped face, but our eyes were an identical icy blue. I was 5'8 and still growing while she was barely 5'4. We were so the same, yet incredibly different, not just in our looks. Maybe that's why we stuck together all those years of being smothered and controlled by our parents, just letting them be the puppet masters. Maybe that's why I missed her so much.


	2. Just Like Her

**Chapter 2 of Lessons, Enjoy! Please review!**

"Be reasonable about this, please." My dad said in a stern voice. I just stared at him as he drove down the road. Wearing my scruffy converse and blue jeans I was unwillingly headed to my first piano lesson. I just knew this would turn out like everything else, I probably wouldn't even learn piano. This Aria would just ask me how I was doing, try to get me to 'talk out my feelings' which, let's face it, was something I didn't want to do, and never would. I tensed as the car slowed to a halt and my dad warned me one more time to be good. We walked up the path and I rang the doorbell.

"Hello?" A girl who couldn't have been over 17 answered the door, dressed in a flowing white skirt and an off the shoulder black and white tee. Her light brown hair hung loosely to her mid back in waves and her eyes were a bright green. This was my piano instructor? She was only like, two years older then me! I fixed her with a cold glare while my dad politely introduced himself and she invited us inside. I dragged my feet through the door and looked around the room. It had a earthy feel, but with a touch of modernism. A black grand piano sat in the corner of the room. She and my dad talked for a bit while I plopped down on the brown couch putting my feet on the coffee table, just to spite my dad and if I was lucky, Aria. Instead, she just looked at me with an amused smile while my dad gave the expected glare. She told him goodbye and closed the door before turning back to me. After sitting in the comfy looking chair she spoke.

"Eli, is it?" Aria wondered aloud. I just raised one of my eyebrows and stared at her. She chuckled and continued, unaffected by my attitude, "I heard what happened and I have a question."

"Oh god, more therapy." I retorted rudely.

"Actually, I wanted to know why you joined piano seeing as you look like you'd rather be locked in a tiger cage."

"I didn't have a choice, it was this or suspension." I fidgeted in my seat. She had an odd way of calming me, and she was so in control of the situation, it was unnerving.

"That's a choice," She sang, "oh well, feel free to make yourself at home there's a few books over there and juice in the kitchen." Without another word she kicked of her shoes, picked up a dog-eared book and began to read. I looked around for a minute, confused, and then turned back to her. Sitting there uncomfortably for a minute or two, I finally spoke up.

"Umm, I thought I was supposed to be learning piano?" I asked, unsurely. She looked up and closed her book with a sigh.

"Now why should I teach you, if you don't want to learn?" she asked, "You wouldn't appreciate what you could do, it would be a waste of my time." She set her book down and walked over to the piano bench.

"Because my parents are paying you lots of money?" I stated, but it came out as more of a question.

"I don't care about the money, please read or something, don't worry I'll won't tell them you aren't learning." She sat down and placed her ring covered hands on the keys. I sat quietly for once in my life, as she began to play. The song was soft and beautiful, but you could feel the emotion in each note, anger, sadness, worry, pain. The chords and notes flowed softly together intricately weaving into a beautiful tune. Each moment seemed to last a lifetime and the song changed into a slightly rougher, more angry tone. With sadness still lace through every beat the song was a continuous battle between one mood and another, the song finally ending with a distant chord. The ending was a realization that left you wondering how something so sad could be so incredible The haunting end left the song with no real conclusion but a strong belief that things might not change. Aria bent her head down and pulled in a long breath.

"What song is that?" I asked, hating to break the silence.

"I wrote it for my parents." She responded. I sat there for a moment in shock. She wrote that? I was in awe.

"It beautiful," I said honestly, "they must be really proud." She turned to look at me with a sad glimmer in her eyes.

"They never heard it, my mom, dad and younger brother all died in a plane crash when I was 7." I saw her in a new light then. Someone who even if in a different way, felt the same things I did. That loneliness, knowing you would never see someone again, someone who had made such a difference to you. I had always tried to be angry with Izzy, but then I would remember the night she had come to my room at about 3 AM tears pouring down her make-up smudged face. I sat there with her the whole night holding her hand and trying to comfort her while she told me what happened. I would remember the times she did the same thing for me. I wondered if Aria had ever felt angry at her parents for getting on the plane, for leaving her behind, anything. I saw her touch the ivory keys of the piano with a soft smile on her face, how much playing had helped her feel something. I wanted that, to not feel so empty, to have something.

"I want to learn," I said, almost inaudibly, in a hoarse voice.

"Next time." She smiled and she jumped up to answer the door. My trance was broken as I saw my dad there, hand raised, about to knock. He look confused for a moment then gave his thanks and ushered me out the door. I turned back once and saw her standing in the doorway. Maybe I could be saved after all.

REVIEW! :) Please?


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